She didn’t see Jon, but she could feel him. He’d stepped back, letting them cosset her, and with all her senses so open and vulnerable, she thought she understood why. This had been a punishment, and he was letting the lesson sink in by giving other submissives the role of her aftercare. They would comfort and soothe, but he would wait to do so until she did what every instinct told her she was supposed to do.
It was hard, so hard, yet every emotionally exhausted fiber of her knew she would do it. However, she truly needed this moment first. As Cass and Dana gently and efficiently cleaned between her legs and buttocks, ran damp, heated cloths down her legs, over her skin, grounding her in this world once again, Savannah came to her front, stroked her face. In her bent position, Rachel’s head was at the level of Savannah’s breasts, the lace edges of the bra and curves partially revealed by the button Matt had slipped. Still bound, Rachel raised her gaze to the woman’s face.
Savannah gave her a nod, then slid her arms around Rachel’s shoulders, letting her put her face against that perfumed bosom, take comfort in the softness, the understanding, the calm over the storm. Her hands were cool and strong, everything she needed them to be.
Finally, her arms and legs were uncuffed. She tried to hold her own weight, but of course she was still trembling too badly. As the three women held her, she had one rasping word on her lips.
“Jon.”
Savannah turned her toward him, her arm around Rachel’s bare waist. He stood a few feet away, studying her with those quiet intent eyes, the way he’d so often studied her during class. She moved one foot forward, but now Cass stopped her. Dana knelt, urging her out of the first stiletto, then the other. Now she stood on bare soles, completely naked, except for the collar he’d put on her. A proper slave.
They wouldn’t let her move forward without their help. The pressure of her forward motion told them where she wanted to go, though, so she was leading. When she reached him, her knees let go. They slowed it down, helped her sink in a controlled movement to a kneeling position. Then they stepped back, that space on the stage becoming a silent circle for the two of them alone.
Lifting her attention to his beloved face, Rachel let her eyes dwell briefly on every feature, then she swept her gaze down, bowed her head. “I’m sorry, Master,” she said softly. She didn’t have the strength to say it louder, but it was only him who needed to hear it. “I’ll try…but I need you to remind me I’m worth loving. It’s been so long since…I felt loved. T-thank you. Please…forgive me. I need your forgiveness. I’m so sorry.”
How could she make sense of the tears that came now, the fact that she was sorry, and happy, and sad and exhilarated, and exhausted? And all his.
She waited, her gaze on his feet. As she did, something else happened. Hands settled on her shoulders, a male leg pressing against her bare hip. Peter bent, tilted her head back and kissed her on the lips, offering a quick stroke of her face with a tender hand. The cool judgment she’d seen when he sat in the chair was gone. What was there now was heat and comfort at once, protective and kind. Then he put pressure on her shoulder and neck, directing her to return her gaze to the floor. As he stepped away it was Lucas taking his place, lifting one of her hands to kiss it, fondle the fingers, teasing her chin up for one brief second to give her a nod, show her the acceptance in his gaze as well before he stepped back.
This time her gaze returned to the floor on its own, understanding what was required. Ben’s knuckles slid down her spine, giving her a shiver as he probed between her buttocks, that opening that had burned when he first slid the plug in. Then his mouth touched her nape, a nip and a “Well done”, before he too was gone.
She was hungering for some word from Jon, some indication that she’d met his approval, but she couldn’t deny how overwhelming this was. As well as a little scary, the ramifications of being accepted in such a way, the responsibility. There was no going back from this, no retreat, because Jon now had enough people to surround her fully. And while none of them could stare into the depths of her soul the way Jon could, they all understood her in a way that was too hard to resist.
Her chin was lifted once more and now Matt Kensington squatted in front of her, studying her with dark, unfathomable eyes, his hand strong and sure on her face. He didn’t say anything, just held her in that gaze. With a hard lurch in her chest, she recognized it for what it was, a moment like an ancient tribal ritual. The leader didn’t need to say anything. He was making a point of looking at her, of showing the others in the pack that he saw her. He accepted her. And she’d never be without family again.
The realization became something so difficult to contain, her fingers tightened on her knees. She needed Jon so badly she didn’t think she could breathe another second without him. And then Matt was gone and he was there, her Master.
She stared at his feet, directly in front of her. She wanted to surge up, wrap her arms around him, have him hoist her body up and let her cling to him with arms and legs like a child, but she waited on the knife-edge, the most painful thing she’d done so far. She was lost, uncertain, and only he could save her.
His long-fingered hands came into the scope of her vision first, closing on her hands and lifting them. Then he brought her gaze up to him as he squatted, flanking her with his knees. As he kissed each palm, his gaze dwelled on her. She didn’t know what to call what she saw in his face. It was love, yes, she couldn’t deny it, but there was more. For this one second she truly believed she was the most important thing in his life. A sense of utter belonging and possession wrapped around her, making her feel more warm, safe and loved than she’d ever felt in her entire life.
“Forgiven,” he said. “Completely and forever.”
* * * * *
Because she was still so shaky, and the showers and changing rooms were on a lower level, he carried her, the others making a path for him through the crowd. When he reached the shower area, however, he left her with Savannah, Cass and Dana, giving her a quiet smile, caressing her face. The women tugged her floating, dazed self into a private but spacious shower stall. With a lot of strokes and kisses, they helped wash so many things away, leaving only the things that mattered.
Comfort turned in time to playfulness, and it amazed her to touch and be touched with such easy joy. She felt like a member of a harem for a powerful sultan—or in this case, five sultans—glorying in the state of sensuality that belonging to such men could keep at an astonishingly high level. She hadn’t believed in a dream like this, had resisted it, and why? Now that she’d experienced it, she knew she’d give almost anything to feel like this. She’d never understood there was a line between dangerous addiction and courage. It was both painful and thrilling to realize how close to the positive side of that line she’d perhaps always been. But she believed in cycles, Fate and karma. If she’d learned to have that courage before Jon had come into her life, it wouldn’t have been the same. Now was the right time, the way it was meant to be.
They dried her, put her back in her dress, helped her with her hair, and she helped them with theirs, since they’d all gotten equally wet. They talked very little of specific things…it wasn’t needed. That would come later. They also seemed to understand she couldn’t handle much of anything beyond immediate thoughts, simple needs. Playful touches were mixed once again with comforting caresses, hugs, long moments of simply being held. The reassurance of women speaking in quiet conversation.